


Is This a Dance or a Fight?

by IvyDevoss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyDevoss/pseuds/IvyDevoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer's single-minded attention is weirdly addictive... and as much as he may try to deny it, Sam is still an addict at heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is This a Dance or a Fight?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago as the beginning of a longer piece. I've got another chapter or two written, but I don't actually know if I want to continue it or not... so I thought I'd just post this first part for now, because it works as a one-shot too.

It had gotten to the point where Sam started worrying if he _didn’t_ see the Devil for a while. A small voice still sometimes tried to remind him how completely screwed up that was, but since “screwed up” was pretty par for the course of Sam Winchester’s life, he silenced the voice and just kept on keepin’ on. After all, there wasn’t much else he could do.

Really, he deserved a medal for bearing this double cross: first, maintaining some sort of tenuous distinction between reality and hallucination, and ignoring the unsettling and inappropriate things Lucifer liked to say to him, especially when there were other people around; and second, doing his very best to convince Dean that nothing was going on and that he was completely fine. His older brother had enough on his own plate. Sam didn’t want to burden Dean any further. He knew how to handle Lucifer––after all, they’d gotten to know each other quite well in the cage.

And, although he wouldn’t allow himself to admit it, the truth is that a tiny part of him found Lucifer’s presence weirdly comforting. Who knows why? Every time his mind got close to stating this truth in black and white, he quickly explained it away, before it could take full form, as being some sort of lingering Stockholm Syndrome. He told himself that he was... noting Lucifer’s absence (he wouldn’t let himself even think the words “missing him”) because it was simply something he had grown accustomed to, during the months-that-felt-like-years in the Pit.

Lucifer still came to Sam’s dreams sometimes as well, which is why Sam wasn’t surprised, after falling asleep in his own bed one night, to suddenly find himself awake in a field, in the utter blackness of the summer night, under a sky full of harsh stars. There was no moon, and he could hardly see the ground, but he could feel grass under his hands and was aware of Lucifer’s presence near him, a silent thrumming energy.

Once he had gathered what orientation he could from the dream landscape, Sam tentatively spoke into the darkness. “I know you’re there.”

“Good.”

Sam thought he maybe ought to say something else, but the silence stretched on like a piece of taffy, long and supple and sweet. Time passed, either much faster or much slower than normal, but the lulling warmth of the night made it impossible to tell which.

After a while, Sam lay back on the grass and stared up into the night, and a while after that, he was convinced that he could see the starry sky turning, like the distant majestic ceiling of an immense carousel. As he was starting to feel dizzy at the sight, that scratchy intimate voice spoke out of the dark again.

“You may think you’re moving and everything else is still, but have you considered the alternative? Perhaps you’re the only fixed point in a wildly wobbling world.”

Sam didn’t like how quickly his mind leapt to agree with this statement, but before he could make himself argue against it, the voice continued.

“Are you ready for the light?”

Sam turned his face towards the source of the voice, but almost before it had finished speaking, he realized the blackness surrounding them was fading to a warm gray and the stars were dimming. Sam became aware that they were on a hillside – he could just make out the outline of Lucifer now, sitting a few feet away with his arms wrapped around his knees – and that there was a range of hills in the distance. That had to be the East, because the sky over the hills was glowing with the promise of light. But strangely enough, it wasn’t light blue or grey or gold, but a rich red, like at sunset.

He heard the voice next to him murmuring “ _In the morning you say, it will be foul weather today; for the sky is red and lowering._ ”

Feeling a vague spark of recognition at the words, Sam narrowed his eyes at his companion in the washed-out red light.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow in return and said “Oh, I’m sorry, would you prefer something more secular? How about this: _A red morn means wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, sorrow to the shepherd... hell to the hunter and the hunted._ ”

Sam made himself look away, back to the hills that were now glowing, blood-drenched with the advent of day.

Almost all the stars had faded into nothingness, but he caught sight of one last shining point far above them and said automatically “The morning star.”

Lucifer chuckled softly. “That’s not the morning star.”

“It’s actually a planet – Venus, I think,” Sam replied. “But people call it the morning star.”

“They’re wrong.” Lucifer was closer to him now. “Do you know which is the real morning star?” The first ray of sun cracked over the horizon and struck Sam’s face, making him squint. Temporarily blinded, he could still hear the smile behind the next words: “It’s the one that’s shining on you right now.”

“The sun?” Sam asked in confusion. “That’s not true...”

“Why not? It’s the only star that comes out in the morning. It’s the star that’s closest to you, the star that warms you and lets you live – the star that loves you. The one so bright and beautiful, it outshines all the rest.”

Sam blinked a few times and shaded his eyes, but it was still too bright to see anything at all. He felt like his stomach was turning over, repulsed by the morning light. In a voice that was almost a whisper he said “The sun... is the morning star? I never heard that.”

“You’re hearing it now.” Another low chuckle. “From a reliable source.”

A few more reddish sunbeams had spilled over the distant hilltops and Sam’s eyes were beginning to adjust. When he focused on Lucifer, though, all he could see was still that blinding light, out of which came a few last lazy words.

“Well, good morning, Sammy. Probably time to get home to your big brother, don’t you think?”

And Sam was suddenly alone, sitting in grass that he only now realized was soaking with dew, on a hillside in the middle of nowhere, as the sun – that giant bright star – rose red in the East.


End file.
